Rebuilding
by McGonagall's Bola
Summary: One witch sat alone right after the fight. -REWRITTEN!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harry couldn't bear looking at all these men, women and even children. He felt guilty enough just at the thought of how many had lost life in that war which should have been between him and Voldemort only, without having to eye the survivors sitting by the sides of the ones that had been lost. Voldemort hadn't cared about ravishing a couple more lives, but Harry's heart ached upon entering the Great Hall and being met with screams of disbelief and pain. Some sobbed from pure exhaustion.

He momentarily shut his bright green eyes, to ban away the images of most every one of the survivors crying and sobbing, and that because of him… but soon opened them again upon finding that the screams actually were worse when that was the only thing he registered. Harry quietly let his gaze go over the Weasleys, who were mourning over their son and brother Fred. Harry's heart ached upon the realization that no more would it be Fred and George, but just George now.

He caught a sight of Remus and Tonks. That most likely was worst for him to see. Remus would never see his son grow up. Harry had been there. He knew just how painful it could be never really having had a father or mother. He quietly let his bright green eyes wander further. Most of the survivors were huddled up together by their lost ones. Some were just sitting a couple of feet aside doing their best to comfort each other. In these times of need, earlier impossible alliances now existed. Maybe this war had served for good in one way all taken in consideration after all.

Just one witch sat aside from everyone else alone, though. She hadn't had much more to lose really. Harry swallowed and slowly walked over to her. She didn't give any indication of having seen or heard or felt him near. He quietly sat down beside her on the stairs in the Great Hall. The chairs and tables onto the floor where the teachers and headmaster had sat to eat were turned over carelessly, or in mere shreds of their usual appearance… or both. "Professor?" Harry whispered, but still Minerva McGonagall, his former Head of House, didn't move or say anything. From where Harry sat, he could see her emerald green eyes watery and reddened. It appeared as if she was on the verge of bursting into tears, but anyone who knew Minerva, was aware that that most likely never would happen. She certainly had a lot of self-composure.

Harry slowly reached up to pat her shoulder, as she herself so often had done with him as a gesture of comfort. She could be very defensive when it came down to Hogwarts and its pupils and maybe most especially when it came down to Gryffindors. Minerva McGonagall had never shown disloyalty if it concerned her Gryffindors. In times of need, Minerva usually was the one anyone could confide in. He could image how hard she must have tried to guard Hogwarts and the pupils from the Death Eaters. He wouldn't have anticipated any less from her.

She at once flinched away from his touch, slightly wincing. He immediately released her with light shock, then understood upon seeing a wide, bleeding cut beneath the torn black robes on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe you should let yourself–" he continued, when eying his former Transfiguration Professor's innumerous battle wounds. Some appeared exceptionally painful, like the gash on her side, which was well visible through the hole in her robes.

"I'm fine, Potter," she said, trying to sound fine.

Harry almost unconsciously smiled at that. Minerva McGonagall sure was one of a kind, when even in these hours, she candidly refused to let down her barriers. He quietly recalled how actually never he had been able to tell her thank you for his first broom. Quidditch had become one of his favorite, most enjoyable things to do, and most of that had been because of her. There were of course more things Harry should have thanked her for, but never really had.

_Professor Dumbledore cared a great deal about you. _Harry nodded more to himself than anyone else upon recalling that. She too cared a lot about him, he knew. Before today, he had sometimes forgotten about that fact, and before today the evidence of it hadn't been really obvious. Harry's hair rose onto his skin as he again heard her utterly hopeless scream in his head when Hagrid had carried him inside, supposedly defeated.

"Professor?" He repeated, and this time she slowly turned her head to him. He carefully reached to stroke away the dirt right beneath the gash on her cheek. "I really…" he began, but then interrupted himself. There was no use in trying again to persuade her in anything, even now. He just hoped that sooner maybe rather than later Minerva would dare admit to herself she might actually need medical aid.

"I never could have guessed that…" she began, "that narcissistic Tom Riddle of then could mean the end of Hogwarts one day."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "What do you mean?" He asked. "The end? Aren't we going to build up the school again?" Minerva's eyes connected with his. She didn't say a word, and that said enough. Harry's hand reached for hers and squeezed. She felt particularly cold and appeared beyond exhausted. Minerva didn't even move to retract her battered, frail hand from his. Even her hands both were covered with bruises and gashes. She must have fought hard. Harry swallowed. "Professor, this is what he would have wanted. We can't…"

"I'm not sure whether things still would be the same, Potter," she said, this time slowly retracting her hand, before leaning her heavy head against the wall beside her. Locks of grayish hair had come down from their usual neat bun, and some were matted to her cheeks by the dirt and blood. "Everything's destroyed."

"He, too," Harry whispered, and that made her look up again. "He, too," he repeated. "He's gone forever this time." She nodded, but didn't say anything. "This is going to be your Hogwarts now, but that doesn't mean you have to do it alone."

Minerva smiled, but weakly. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry smiled, too, and to his surprise, he could see the very first tears slide over her cheek, running down through the layer of dirt. Harry immediately knew she wasn't actually crying only for what had occurred today, but for Dumbledore as well, and maybe for more she had lost in this war between good and bad which no one knew about. "Come here," he whispered, and even though he never would have anticipated, she listened and buried her head in his shoulder, before beginning to sob like he never could have guessed from Minerva McGonagall. Poor woman must be beyond exhausted.

He just let her and quietly pulled both of his arms around her waist, before stroking her spine and doing his best to soothe her, even though the fact she was finally releasing all the pain of the last years certainly would give her relief. Minerva then let a wince of pain escape as he accidentally brushed near a cut on the small of her back. "I'm sorry," he apologized, but she only pushed herself deeper in his shoulder. He just let her. With Dumbledore, she had lost her best companion only last year. And never had she been able to mourn over him, for there were of course pupils to keep safe from the Death Eaters that had taken their position at Hogwarts, and that must have taken most of her time. Even though it wasn't really obvious, Harry assumed that Minerva McGonagall must have changed a lot since last year while being subjected to this terror.

His eyes lazily trailed to Hermione, who comforted Ginny. Both girls reasonably were in tears. Hermione's mocha eyes connected with his, and she only nodded. He could see the worry that was etched onto her forehead upon eyeing the battered Professor McGonagall, her favorite in her days at Hogwarts. 'Poor woman', she mouthed. Harry nodded, too. It didn't seem like it right now, but all was going to be just fine if everyone supported each other. Together the survivors would succeed in rebuilding everything; Hogwarts, their lives, and with some aid of loved ones, their hearts.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Quietly, Minerva then reached for a tip of her ripped black robes and wiped her eyes with it. She sighed, uncharacteristically fumbling with the piece of fabric, before letting go of it and letting her gaze go over the Great Hall again, which was entirely destroyed like most of the rest of the castle of Hogwarts. How could things ever be the same or even worthy of comparison again? Minerva sighed again, before raising her eyes to the ceiling, that was enchanted to look like the sky above. There were numerous holes in it, visible to the ones that really focused, like Minerva. "I have lost a lot of my feathers," she admitted, before lowering her eyes again, directing them down into her lap, in which her icy cold hands were neatly folded together.

Harry never would have guessed to hear something like that from Minerva McGonagall. He never before really had pondered on how much she had actually done for him, even though most of it hadn't usually occurred to him that way. If it hadn't been for McGonagall, Ron and he most likely would have been expelled in second year or worse. She, however, had let them both get away with it, with reasonable but bearable retribution. "You are one of the best, most powerful witches that I have ever gotten to know," Harry replied.

McGonagall smiled weakly. "I maybe was powerful once, but I'm old now… and I only was powerful with Albus by my side."

"You never really got over him," Harry whispered. It wasn't a question. Minerva didn't reply. "You're not old," Harry continued, after a silence that had lasted mere minutes. "And you're an Animagus."

Minerva chuckled throatily. "Yeah, that was surely something. I, however, don't believe that I ever would have gone through with it, if it hadn't been for Albus. I never really thought about becoming one until he mentioned either. I only was a pupil here at Hogwarts when we first met. He used to be my teacher in Transfiguration, my forever favorite subject." Harry nodded. "I soon looked up to him, and I wanted to be more like him, so of course when he merely mentioned that maybe I could be good enough to become an Animagus, I got interested, and began reading up on it." She paused. "I somehow couldn't care less about its potential to backfire. I never could have guessed how slow and arduous it would all be."

Another pause fell between both Gryffindors. Minerva leaned against the wall again. "I really tried to convince him," she whispered, and Harry only barely heard it.

"Who?" He questioned.

Minerva McGonagall's green eyes connected with his. He really had Lily's eyes, which were a far more vivid and brighter shade than hers ever had been. Minerva's eyes were more teal in color. "Albus," she said, and even though his name was merely whispered, Harry thought that he recognized some of Professor McGonagall's usual impatience in it as well. He could see the former Transfiguration Professor shudder. He couldn't quite say whether the topic of Dumbledore was causing this reaction, or maybe the cool, nightly wind that raged through the castle, through the holes in the walls and ceiling, before sweeping across the bare white skin that the fabric of her robes no longer shielded from the cold well. Harry quietly charmed a quilt, before easing it over her shoulder to make her feel warmer just in case that was the reason.

"Thank you," she whispered and smiled even though only weakly. She could still see the confusion in Harry's eyes and continued, "I really tried to convince him on the night we left you with the Dursleys. I had sat there watching in Animagus most of the day and wasn't very keen on leaving you with them when Hagrid arrived with you. I didn't believe that family ever should have raised you, but Albus didn't agree. I had never seen such horrible Muggles, but of course Albus…" she didn't finish that one, but sighed, then continued, "I occasionally came by in Animagus. I often felt the need to take you to Hogwarts and raise you myself."

A surge of deep respect and affection for Minerva McGonagall coursed through him like never before. "I do recall a tabby when I was younger," Harry said, thoughtfully.

"That must have been me." Harry nodded. "Albus often told me that if I had gone through with it and taken you to Hogwarts, you possibly never would have been the man you have become today." Harry again nodded. Dumbledore had once told him the very same.

McGonagall slowly resettled and winced. "You should see Madam Pomfrey," Harry repeated, and to his surprise, his former Transfiguration teacher nodded.

"Maybe," she breathed. Harry rose and thoughtfully offered both of his hands to pull her upright with unanticipated ease. Minerva smiled. "Thank you," she whispered.


End file.
